


Repair

by Evilsnowswan



Series: Sacred Heart [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnowswan/pseuds/Evilsnowswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle works in an IT Department, and Mr. Gold thinks she's cute so he keeps "breaking" his computer to see her. </p><p>  <em>(Prompted by Regardstosoulandromance on tumblr)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Repair

The parking lot was busier than usual. Gold drummed his fingers on the steering wheel trying to find a spot.  Normally he would never have visited the mall at this hour – let alone on a Friday afternoon. He preferred to do his shopping in the early hours of morning to avoid the crowds. If he stuck to his regular schedule, however, he knew she wouldn’t be there. If he came in when she wasn’t working, he would have to make do with one of her colleagues, who, if he was honest, did not strike him as particularly qualified for the job. She, on the other hand, had done nothing but excellent work. It was perfectly reasonable therefore that he would put up with the extra traffic on a Friday to make sure that she would be the one behind the desk.

She smiled at him when he approached. She was wearing the usual white collar shirt with the embroidered name tag, a black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees and simple black heels. High heels seemed an odd choice for a job that required standing behind a desk for hours on end, but she did not seem to mind. Her chestnut hair was pulled up into a high messy bun today with a few loose strands falling out and framing her face. She was also wearing a tiara – a cheap plastic thing covered in an indecent amount of glitter and with violently pink gemstones set in it – and a pair of pastel pink strap-on fairy wings to match. Gold felt a little smile touch his lips.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gold.” She was chipper as always, slightly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Is that machine giving you trouble again?” She indicated the black laptop he had just placed on her desk. “How can I help?”

He cleared his throat. “I can’t seem to get it to boot up,” he explained. “I am not sure what happened.” He blushed a little. It was a straight-out lie. He knew perfectly well. “So I figured I would take it back here again- in the hopes that you could work your magic on it once more, Miss French.” He looked at her hopeful and placed his hands on his cane in front of him, his palms warm and sweaty against the cool wood. “Keeping the books the old-fashioned way the past few days has been rather tedious.”

She beamed at him. “You are in luck then, Mr. Gold!" She giggled and pointed at the tip of her wings visible over her shoulder. “Magic is my specialty today.”

“Let’s see what we can do...” She plugged in a charger and opened the laptop. “It can’t be the battery – we replaced that only last month. The operating system should also be running smoothly. Did you have any more problems with it after I reinstalled it the last time you came in? Because, you know, my recommendation to update to a newer model still stands.” She winked, then pressed and held the on button until there was a sound. “By the rate everything is advancing, this old treasure won’t be able to meet even the minimum requirements for much longer.”

“I like this model!” Gold protested almost immediately. They had had this conversation a couple of times – in fact, they had it _every_ time he came to her tech support desk. It always went the same way too. There was a strange comfort in its repetition for him now. It felt like singing the same tune over and over again, coming home to the familiar words. It was a small, unimportant detail, really, but one that left him feeling content and comfortable in his skin for a while, warmth and calm flowing lazily through his veins.

“I know.” She took the bait and rolled her eyes in fake exasperation, but the smile playing at the corner of her lips gave her away. She knew this was a dance, their special duet, and she joined in singing regardless. “You might have mentioned it before. _Once_ or _twice_.” She smirked.

“Now, now, dear, no need to replace a perfectly good item only because it is old.” He wagged his finger at her.

“You just said it didn’t _work_. That’s why you brought it in.” She crossed her arms, but ruined the effect by biting down on her lip to keep from laughing. “I am afraid, your love for antiquities seems to be clouding your judgement when it comes to modern technology.”

“There is a beauty in the old and used, my dear,” he said. “Each piece in my shop has a soul and breath of its own, a history. It is quite easy to complete a project and find that a part of your own soul has attached itself to the object after you have spent countless hours carefully fixing and reconstructing it. It is all about patience and love. You have to cherish every small item, every little detail. However broken, all things deserve the chance to be fixed. There is nothing more rewarding and beautiful than making an old piece come back to life by work of your own two hands - seeing its true nature shine  through after gentle staining and polishing.”

“Aren’t you quite the poet, Mr. Gold.” She smiled warmly at him now. “Your work and mine are not that different though, really.”

He gestured at the nearest row of laptops and other gadgets on display to their right. “These shiny naked new things have no soul,” he insisted, and then waited for her usual response. It was almost like counting the steps to a dance. A steady rhythm. Though never quite the same, not word for word, the essence of their little exchange never changed.

“Maybe they are just waiting for someone to come and awaken them, stir something deep inside - someone to breathe life into them,” she said softly.

He blinked, momentarily lost for words. This had not been the expected answer. She had deviated and thrown their whole routine out of kilter. Slightly befuddled he stood there for a moment, the sudden silence stretching out uncomfortably between them. She had stopped the dance, started singing a new tune, and he did not know any of the words.

Head tilted slightly to one side and lips pressed tightly together, she was watching him, her bright blue eyes wider than usual. A question.

His heart was dancing around in his chest, but it was a blind and toothless fool.  An old, tired, and ugly creature; broken beyond repair. She would not have wanted it - even if he would have been willing to give it. He knew that.  

His computer beeped loudly, making them both jump, and she shifted her attention back to the screen, her cheeks somewhat flushed.

“It seems something has caused your system to crash, M-Mr. Gold.” Her tongue stumbled over his name and he could see her trying to regain composure.

He looked at his hands to give her some space. They were oddly discolored. Thin skin- blotchy red, his very white knuckles the exception. He flexed his fingers a couple of times and then looked back up.

She had rearranged her features into her usual smile, but her voice was a little too cheerful when she said, “Did you open any unknown files or websites recently? It looks like a virus has wreaked havoc here. I am afraid, we will have to reset again.” She looked at him apologetically.

He knew that, of course. He had intended for it to happen – but only after he had made a backup of his files, like she had advised him to the last time he had come here. He fumbled in his breast pocket for the little red flash drive, then set it on his palm and held it out for her to see.

“Ah, I see you came prepared this time!” she praised, her palms placed together. “We will need that in a bit.”

She busied herself with his computer, resetting it like he had seen her do once before. He watched her face as she pressed keys and typed, her gaze fixed on the screen. 

When he had first come here all he had wanted was a new battery for his computer. It had been a long day and his mind had been half way to the quiet and peace of his home already, not paying anything much attention, when her clear eyes, warm smiles, and clever conversation had yanked him out of his stupor.

Maybe he should have left it at that, but when his laptop had acted up again, his mind had jumped immediately to her – to the young woman at the computer and technical support at the mall in the next town over. It had jumped to her and stayed there ever since.

He knew he should have stayed away. He wasn’t entirely sure what about her made him want to seek her out again and again. She was beautiful, that much was true, and while he was a friend of the arts, of all things beautiful and aesthetically pleasing, that alone wasn’t it. She had a captivating air about her that eclipsed her looks, and he had found himself drawn to it, to her, almost immediately – like the figurative moth to the light. She was a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day.

Had he still had his old easel, his brushes and paints, and had he chosen to paint her, she would have been brightness. Rich vibrant colors flowing over the canvas, filling it with life, threatening to spill over at the edges. She was fair, delicate and gentle, but there was also energy there - pulsating right below the surface. When he traced her out with his eyes, concentrating, he could almost make out the heat shimmers.

He knew that nothing would ever come of it, and he probably didn’t even want it to, but he had kept coming back to see her anyway.

He let his gaze wander over the desk mindlessly for a bit. It would be best if he did not return again after today.

His eyes focused on the little sparkly wand toy that undoubtedly went with the costume. 

She was young and full of life. He would not get in the way of that. She was probably headed to a party after work. It was Halloween weekend after all, and she was still a student (she had told him once that she was majoring in English Lit and Romance Languages, and merely worked part-time at the mall to pay for college).

“So, uh, are you joining the festivities tonight, Miss French?” The words were out before he knew he was saying them. He almost cringed at how awkward he sounded in his feeble attempt to make simple and safe conversation.

She looked up, confusion in her eyes, before she cottoned on. “Oh, oh right, Halloween.” She touched her tiara and laughed. “This.”

He reached for a smile, nodding. It stretched his face uncomfortably.

“No, not really.” She shrugged and held out her hand wordlessly for the flash drive. It had warmed up in his palm.

“I just like to make people smile,” she said noncommittally. “And I like the wings,” she added while plugging in the flash drive. “Although I keep knocking things over, and I might have flapped Keith in the face with them – accidentally.” She grinned.

Gold chuckled. Keith was one of Miss French’s colleagues and Gold did not like him. He was an unpleasant young man and did not seem to have much to offer in the upper storey. The lights were very clearly dimmed there. 

She moved the mouse and clicked a couple of times. “I wanted to get the hang of them, break them in, so to speak.”

“Are you planning on becoming a full-time fairy after graduation, Miss French?”

That made her dissolve into giggles.

“No, not quite.” She worried her bottom lip for a moment. “Though I have been thinking about changing my major to Social Work, actually,” she admitted.

He could just as easily picture her as a social worker as he could imagine her sitting in a library surrounded by piles and piles of books, engrossed in a story and engulfed by the mingling smell of old paper and leather. Gold was sure that whatever career path she chose, she would excel at it.

“The wings are for tomorrow,” she continued explaining. “I volunteer at Sacred Heart. We are organizing a Halloween parade for the children who have to stay at the hospital, so they won’t miss out on _all_ the fun.”

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Do they even allow candy at the hospital?”

“Some, though we can’t be too picky. Most of it is donations. Some people also donate costumes. But we never have quite enough candy to match a good trick-or-treat haul.” She sighed. “We made most of the decorations ourselves, us and the kids, but there couldn’t be enough pumpkins, skeletons, and fake cobwebs in the world to make them forget the fact that they are spending Halloween at the hospital.” She frowned.

“You know, Mr. Gold, you could come join us, if you’d like!” She suddenly beamed at him. “There sure must be something back at your shop that would make for a great costume – and some of your dusty, _inspirited_ ancient things might be just what we need to liven up the Haunted Room,” she teased.

“That would be quite a show, wouldn’t it now, the town grump rolling a bunch of scary objects into Sacred Heart,” he chortled. “I believe the Mother Superior would die of shock at the sight, and the parents would most likely fear I might eat their children for an opulent dinner.”

“You are not that grumpy, Mr. Gold-” She gave him a look. “-or that scary.”

“Maybe not,” he said.

The laptop between them made a ping noise and she removed the flash drive to hand it back to him. He heard the familiar shutdown sound. Then she closed the lid.

“There. All set and good as new.” She held it out to him. “Well, _in a manner of speaking_ , anyway.”

Gold glowered at her, pretending to have taken offence at the quip, but then cracked a smile and shook his head. “Well, aren’t you something else, Miss French.”

Her face split into a wide, radiant smile.

“Once again - thank you for your time and patience. I very much appreciate your help.” His eyes locked on hers for a moment. He wanted to burn their shape and color, their exact shade of blue, into his brain. Remember every ray of white in the iris.

“Uh, no worries.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

He held out his hand, and after a beat she took it and they shook.

“Send me the bill.” He grabbed the laptop and promptly turned around and left, his heart beating too rapidly and too violently, an accompanying feeling of tumult and oppression in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as simple, uncomplicated fluff in my head and I wanted to keep it as toothrottingly sweet and light as possible, but then the story took on a life of its own somewhere in the middle. Sorry, I failed miserably. _How do you even fluff?_


End file.
